PS I love you
by Waterfowl
Summary: Lee Adama gets to assess and, possibly, reconsider his reasons to go ahead with marriage. Set on the eve of Lee and Dee's wedding, sometime after the Groundbreaking on New Caprica.


**A/N1: Lee Adama's mixed, or *allegedly* mixed motivations for getting married to Dee had been haunting his ability to indulge in family happiness for quite a while.**

**This is a take on Lee reassessing and, possibly, reconsidering his reasons to go ahead with the nuptials. Set on the eve of Lee and Dee's wedding, sometime after the Groundbreaking. **

**A/N2: I've been mulling this particular idea for a while, though the credit for inspiration to actually work it into text should go to dispatcher652's story 'Fatherly Advice'.**

**Disclaimer: None of the characters, plot-points, inherent to the show, belong to me. **

**P.S. I love you***

The fourth time in a row he heard her sigh, actually, diverted his attention from the latest supply report he'd been engrossed into for most of the evening. Dee volunteered to prep their respective dress uniforms for the ceremony, scheduled the next morning. No big deal, just the closest of friends and family, or so was the plan. She finally agreed to cut some slack on appearances, once word of their engagement got out, and would stay in his quarters uninhibited. Which was totally fine with him, since the place incessantly failed to feel home, unless she was around, anyway.

He took a moment to take her in, busy relocating Lieutenant's insignia onto the dress-gray tunic and stifling another sigh. The fifth that would be. Familiar resignation in the ever so slight slump of her shoulders, made him prod:

- What is it, Dee?

Witnessing her startle visibly helped little to ease the stirring apprehension.

- What's what?

As much as she was difficult to fool on his part, Dee was a spectacularly poor liar herself, he mused. Incredulity sounded profoundly false in the way her voice hitched. But above all, that she would avert her eyes persistently, drove him instantly alert and rushing through a mental inventory of whatever he'd said or done (or hadn't, for that matter) that day she might be considering plausibly upsetting.

- Don't be silly. I can see something's up. C'me here.

He stretched one arm and patted the couch seat with another to urge her sit by his side, threading their fingers, as soon as she did.

- Hey there, give me some sunshine, will ya? – Her skin felt smooth and warm beneath his fingertips, as he nudged her chin up, searching for her gaze. – We're getting married tomorrow, remember?

His grin faded, as she finally met his stare, resolve and melancholy so acute in her eyes he almost gasped in pain.

- We don't have to do this.

- Wha… What are you talking about?

It was his turn to nearly jump, as she elaborated further, voice even and a tad too flat for his liking, look frozen on where their fingers were still intertwined in his lap.

- We don't have to do this. Us… The wedding… If that's not what you want.

He could feel his world begin to spin and had to leap to his feet, unable to keep the brewing whirlwind of anguish at bay.

- And why exactly would you get into your head I don't?

Broadcasting a threat with one's tone and demeanor was, in all probability, not the most sound of tactics to deal with one's fiancée about to call it off on the wedding eve, but he had redeeming circumstances of not being quite in control of his emotions at the moment. Immediately humbled by the look she gave him, the one infallibly flashing the darkest corners of his mind and heart alike, he could hear his voice subdue to an anxious plea:

- Dee, please. For the love of Gods, what have I done? What is it?

A sorrowful sight he must've been indeed, for the corners of her mouth to actually curve into a ghost of a rueful smile.

- You don't seem too excited with the prospect, for one. You might not even notice, but you would constantly shut down, whenever the issue is brought up. As if it's nuisance not to waste a spare thought on. As if it's no big deal. But it is.

The latter words spoken so softly under her breath, he guessed or, rather, deduced them, more than heard. Blood drumming fiercely in his ears didn't help the matter either. It, in fact, unnerved him quite a bit he was such a clear scripture as far as she was concerned. He found his privacy thoroughly threatened, at times, whenever she would call him on what he prided himself into concealing discreetly. What would, otherwise, fly perfectly by anyone else he knew. Wouldn't have it any other way, though, either.

Not that time, however. He could feel the sticky sheen of sweat cover his brow and palms, as he strode briskly back, to kneel in front of her, hands roaming all over her small frame in frantic, hesitant awe. His frakking sulky reservations could do him away with only so many fiancées, he kept chanting a frenzied silent mantra, seeking acknowledgement in her gaze.

- You're right, Dee. It _is _a big deal. And a big step. Only makes sense I'm nervous. Just as you are. But I _do_ want this. There's nothing in the world I'd want more.

Making her believe with every fiber of touch and finely honed skill he'd got was a lot easier than making it true. Entirely true, anyway. There was, in fact, something he craved a lot deeper, than ever calling her his own. To be worthy of doing just that. But beggars weren't to be choosers, right? He ought to be content to settle for, at least, _having_ her in his life. For the time being.

The truth was, he'd been scared ever since the day following Baltar's Groundbreaking. Petrified out of his wits, to be precise. Not so much by what he did, but rather by what he didn't, or nearly didn't. Fair enough, shell-shocked didn't begin to describe what he felt upon learning of Kara's u-turn. And he did remember himself desperate to act on spite and break even for the alleged betrayal no matter what. Up until he spotted Dee on the Raptor wing, hazy morning brightness paling in par with her smile. Awaiting to welcome him home. Setting the bleak world around him alight with tantalizing promise. That was when it finally hit him – harder than anything – what it was he disowned out loud that Gods damned night. Just how close he brought himself to defying her on his own accord.

The idea never failed to give him nauseating shudders. So much so, he had to stop, occasionally, and remind himself he actually _hadn't_ gone ahead with the break-up, nor was his notorious one-night-stand exposed. Did amazingly little to help him feel less of a fraud, though.

Therefore, what he urgently needed was leverage. Asap. He was all too aware Dee took her commitments seriously. The nuptial vows might endow him with hope for a fighting chance of not being advised to go frak himself, right away, upon the repeat performance of screwing up, which was bound to happen this way or another, if he was able to read himself remotely as good as she ever did. He should've, in all honesty, congratulated himself on elaborating an efficient out-of-the-box strategy of tricking her into the rollercoaster from Hades, a lifetime by his side was certain to prove. Incidentally, he happened to harbor no doubts it was horrendously unjust to her, or that she deserved better.

Therein lay the bulk of the problem. Never had there, in all probability, been evoked reasons more selfish to enter the marriage in the whole history of their obliterated worlds, but that was the best he could conjure. Fear to lose her exceeded only by dread to be lost for good, self-preservation was not tantamount to cowardice, he tried to placate himself; and she was the only hedge to keep him off the darkest of voids. Had been for quite a while so far. Longer, truth be told, than he dared to admit. If unbelievable fortune so had it, would be for the rest of his pathetic existence.

Sleep never quite claimed its due, till he crawled out of the bunk, cautious not to wake her up. His heart constricting made him cringe, as he regarded her tucked safely beneath the covers, so vulnerable asleep, trusting him to shield her from tribulations outside their quietly stealth, enclosed world, illuminated by her presence. That he was eager to avow carrying out. It was the turmoil within he could believe himself doomed to hardly ever get a grip on. If only he could be sure delegating her to take care of the latter was fair trade.

A soft kiss, instantly earning him a sleepy smile, and a whispered apology, he felt compelled to owe, later, he picked up the receiver to order a Raptor prepped for him in fifteen minutes.

* * *

He picked up a visibly grudging Gaeta on his way back to Pegasus. The fairly recently minted President's aide did not hesitate to let not in the least appreciating to be woken up at an ungodsly hour and sent off on an errand, normally to take up weeks, granted their current circumstances, known.

Mission accomplished, however, judging from the package Felix plopped on the back-seat, he could really care less about what else Gaeta had to say or think about the whole thing and concentrated on piloting the craft through turbulent New Caprican atmosphere, as well as on grinning to some innermost reflections of his own. It'd been a while since he remembered truly indulging in both activities.

* * *

A nervous private was beaconed into the Pegasus XO's quarters, to be met up with a seemingly composed Lt. Dualla, eyes focused intently on the phone, Admiral Adama occupied at the moment, the only indicator of haunting concern. Seated across from her was former President Roslin, keeping track of every word the Admiral exchanged with the planetside dispatcher over the estimated whereabouts of Commander Adama's Raptor. The private was all too eager to carry out just arrived Commander's orders of delivering the taped package and a basketful of wild flowers to the XO and be immediately dismissed from the illustrious and clearly bewildered company.

Laura Roslin was the first one on her feet, unwrapping the cover with deft precision. Folded inside was a dress, simple and exquisite enough to match the lucid wonder of the occasion. Dee reached for the odorous bunch, tracing smooth petals, as if questioning their reality, till her fingers made it to the note, stuck hastily in between the stems.

'_It __**is**__ a big deal. L_.'

It was suddenly of paramount importance for the young woman to bend over the bouquet and inhale sweetish smell of spring, effectively concealing a surge of moved tears. Admiral Adama's eyes darted from one woman to another in weary apprehension, until pacified, if further bemused, by Laura's trademark knowing, yet enigmatic smile. Not a dense man at all times, Bill promptly took his cue to depart for the Ceremonial Hall, leaving the ladies to go ahead with last-minute preparations.

* * *

Acknowledging his father's inquisitive and more than a tad disapproving glare with a sheepish smile, Lee strode hastily to the altar, pulling on white gloves on the way. He did his best to scrub the remnants of green off his hands, from picking up fistfuls of flowers in the only blooming meadow far south of the settlement, of course, in what little time he had left before the ceremony, but some faint stains would've lingered, inevitably. He was not at all looking forward to having the Admiral deliver a lecture on grooming, of all things(!), in front of the priestess, assorted guests and, quite possibly, his own bride.

It'd been so long he could remember himself feeling happy – without being inebriated or high on testosterone, or both, that is – the skill nearly degenerated into a rusty rudiment from disuse. Watching her saunter down the aisle, however, delicate blossoms adorning her hair and clasped in her hands, drawing the unwavering, radiant glow closer with every step, gripped him willing to trust her catching him up, should he topple. Much to his astonishment, the sensation worked remarkably well to deem himself most blessed, if fraudulent nonetheless, bastard among what precious little was left of humanity.

* * *

*** **The title is courtesy of the everlasting Beatles, 'cause '_I'll be coming home again to you, love_' indeed…


End file.
